


A Spear to the Heart

by RefrainGirl



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Patroclus' Keepsake (Hades Video Game), Romantic Angst, Separations, Theseus and Asterius act old and married, Tragic Romance, Unrequited Crush, based on a snippet of TSOA, cuz honestly Achilles makes a great warrior dad I think, which I still need to read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28944840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RefrainGirl/pseuds/RefrainGirl
Summary: Achilles has resigned himself to an eternity of servitude within the House of Hades, keeping himself busy so that he has no time to brood; but when Zagreus returns with a new keepsake to add to his collection, it spikes memories that cause Achilles to mourn a love he wishes to reclaim...And somehow, against all explanation, his misery manages to reach the person whom he has lost all hope of seeing, and so Patroclus weeps as well.
Relationships: Achilles & Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Achilles/Patroclus (Hades Video Game), Asterius | The Minotaur/Theseus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 100





	A Spear to the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> God it feels good to write again! It's been a while for me, and of course I end up writing my first fic in ages for a whole new fandom! Anyway I've been really into playing Hades lately, I fell in love with it! The characters, the art design, the ship potential - especially patrochilles. I'm not remotely a history buff, but playing this game has made me love what they have so much<3
> 
> This fic was inspired by a line I read from a post about TSOA (I still haven't read it yet, but I want to) so all of you who've read the book might pick up on it. Also, I had a thought of 'how tragic would it be if Achilles held Patroclus' keepsake and they could reach each other that way?' So yeah, effectively ripped my own heart out with this lol.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!

There was a perfectly legitimate reason why people feared their deaths, and his name was Hades. A ruler of strength and sternness that had many ungodly shades lurking in dark shadows, waiting on his every command. Legends were spoken in hushed whispers, or not at all lest Hades himself hear and make his intentions known. To be trapped in Tartarus was the worst of punishments, locked far beneath the earth with no hope of escape once Thanatos had claimed your soul.

And yet here Achilles had stood, ever grateful to be in his House. Thankful that Hades had been keeping an eye on his exploits and considered them useful for something other than rotting in the sulphurs of Asphodel, or being lost to the endless depths of Elysium's writhing river Lethe. Hades had seen his skill in life and deemed him a teacher in death. Achilles was grateful for this in part because he had been given the opportunity to train a respectful pupil. In Zagreus he had found a quick learner and a kind heart, much like himself. It was always a pleasure to step onto the training grounds and watch as Zagreus slowly overcame him in skill and strength. Achilles knew it was to be inevitable, him being a simple mortal shade while Zagreus stood before him as a prince of Hell. Even so, the lad worshipped the very ground he stood on, hailing him as the greatest warrior who had ever lived, and Achilles could never manage to stop him from speaking his praises. He did not feel as though such compliments had been properly earned by any means; but despite his reticence, Zagreus' words proved to the old hero that perhaps there was something else still beating inside him, the hollow shell of a heart that might feel the slightest amount of pride. He would not succumb to the taste of it, no matter how often it resurfaced. After all, it was the pursuit of glory that had destroyed everything that Achilles had ever cared about...

Had he remained in Elysium, he might have already succumbed to the urge to forget. To be forgotten by everything and everyone he had ever touched in life and death. For this reason was he most thankful for Hades' intervention. Here in the House, there was no time for thinking - at least, not as much time as there would undoubtedly be in the warrior's paradise. He kept himself busy by writing entries in his journal, keeping all of his observations categorized, and finding moments to chat and occasionally train with Zagreus. His afterlife held purpose, or at least some kind of twisted meaning beyond floating aimlessly about, dwelling over a life once lived. In fact, Achilles had no moments to spare for his past, his failures or his plentiful mistakes, and he was grateful for it. That meant that he had no time to long for...

Without warning the entire hall shook, candlelights flickering from the disturbance atop their gilded pillars. Achilles let out a sigh, shaking the encroaching melancholy thoughts from his mind. Zagreus had died, yet again. It was quite obvious when that was the case, because the sloshing sound of blood always caught his ears first, then it was swiftly followed by the prince's muttered curses. "I want a rematch, now," Achilles heard him grumble, watching with sympathetic eyes as Zagreus stormed off in the direction of his bedroom. It was likely for the best that he ignored Hades' snort of disapproval, although that meant that the ruler of the Underworld had just found the perfect excuse to catch Achilles staring after his son. Achilles did his best to stand rigidly at attention as Hades glowered in his direction.

"You should consider yourself lucky that you are no more than a glimpse of what you once were, Achilles," he stated testily. "For if I discovered that you were somehow aiding in his attempts at escape..."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Master. I may supply nothing more than that which our contract states. I am bound eternally by your terms."

Hades sneered, furrowing his bushy brows before turning back to his paperwork. "As long as you keep that fact in mind, I will hold to what we agreed," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "Now, return to your post immediately. You have nearly as much misery upon your face as that blasted musician, Orpheus."

Blinking, Achilles stepped back to resume his duties. He stared down at his battle-scarred hands, gripping his spear handle firmly. So firmly that they were shaking. Achilles felt a confused smile shake his lips. Misery. Was he truly showing that much misery? How could he possibly find the time to be miserable?

But... deep inside the recesses of his soul, Achilles knew. Something had happened. Something profound and new. Something for which he was not prepared, a realization that he was not yet ready to face.

Fear is for the weak.

* * *

Zagreus approached him later that day (night? Well, whichever appropriate time it seemed to be) looking far less annoyed than he had upon his arrival. He had a spring to his step that Achilles envied. Ah, youth. To feel the joys of his youth again would be to live in blissful innocence, an eternal heaven beyond the reaches of even Olympus itself.

Back when love was his to hold.

"Hello Achilles, sir. I was hoping I could speak with you about something."

He could do nothing but look past the concerned expression on Zagreus' face into the far reaches of a long distant memory. Hands grasping, fingers intertwining, and cold bedsheets sliding against hot skin that had been turned feverish from the night's events. His name, rolling off the tounge, sweet and sultry in the darkness. Soft lips, the taste of someone precious. Warm smiles, rich laughter. Dare he speak that name aloud? The remnants of Achilles' heart ached with the reliving of his brightest moments.

"Sir? Are you feeling alright?" he barely heard Zagreus ask through his haze. "You look unwell..."

What had triggered such a memory in the first place? Achilles swallowed thickly, and only then did he catch the briefest glimpse of something familiar peeking out from the lad's robes. His eyes peered closer until they centered on a keepsake that the prince had chosen to bear for his next escape. The trinkets gifted from friends served to bolster his confidence, and Achilles had supported the idea in the past. But this felt too familiar, too personal to ignore. The object glinted with a silver sheen in the muted candlelight of the House, and suddenly a flash of something unpleasant burst through Achilles' thoughts, prompting him to ask outright.

"Where... were you last, lad?" His voice trembled, and he couldn't seem to steel it against his fear. "How far did you manage this time?"

Gods, he hoped that Zagreus wouldn't sense what was amiss with him. But the prince's eyes shimmered with a kind of light that Achilles had never seen in them before, and after a moment he got his answer. "I made it to the colloseum in Elysium, sir," he said, his smile sunnier than anything Achilles had seen after entering the Underworld. "This time was the farthest I've gone yet. It would have been more elating if I had actually managed to defeat Theseus, though. No doubt he'll be gloating when next we meet."

Achilles matched his smile, or tried to. It felt strained in the wake of his now turbulent emotions. "That's incredible. The closest you've ever come to freedom... I have the utmost faith in you, Zagreus, and I know that you will make it out of this place one day."

"I hope so, sir. I'll keep trying until I reach the surface, no matter what or who bars my path. I promise I won't let your training go to waste."

"Good to hear." Achilles relaxed the tiniest amount, his forced grin becoming more genuine as he clapped a hand to the prince's shoulder. "Everything I taught you is being used for a greater good, I think. I'm glad that my skills could be of some use."

Zagreus looked like he appreciated the kind sentiment, but the fact remained that he was showing a more subdued reaction to the praise than Achilles had been expecting. His fragile smile faltered. "Is something wrong, lad?"

It was rare to see Zagreus startle, but startle he did. Whatever Achilles had seen on his face disappeared, and those eyes glanced away for a second before Zagreus sighed, reaching into his robes for something, a thing that Achilles knew he wasn't yet ready to fully gaze upon. "Let's just say that I understand, sir. I know exactly why you felt the need to warn me when last we spoke..."

What the prince eventually pulled out from his robes made Achilles instantly tense up. He didn't want to cry, plenty of that had been done on the surface in private. Hours and days of endless tears and howling wails poured through his memory, and it was not a thing to be proud of; but his tattered heart was beating a million ways in every direction and it hurt, by the gods, but it wounded him. He had not the strength to resist the knot of pain inside as he stared down at the small, broken spearhead that Patroclus, his beloved, had given to Zagreus.

The same spearhead that had belonged to the spear that Patroclus had wielded beside him when they went to war. Seeing it here, broken and in the hands of his pupil, gave Achilles such conflicting emotions. He wasn't sure if this was relief, joy or misery - or a combination of all three at once. But if he had possessed blood at all, Achilles knew that it would have burned through him like wine in that instant. "Ah. You... you met him, then," he murmured. Barely a whisper. "Patroclus."

The name, once uttered, brought with it more scattered memories. Both good and bad, images arising from a life that felt as if it had been lived just yesterday. Pictures formed throughout Achilles' mind that threatened to overwhelm him, to overthrow his warrior's calm and make him sob for the first time since before his death. He remembered it well, and the powerful sensations that arose from those recollections was what forced him to close his eyes.

Focus. He needed to focus here, now.

"He... did give you this, did he not?"

A heartbeat of terror paralyzed Achilles, fearing the worst of possibilities to be true, until he heard Zagreus let out a soft sigh. "Yes. He handed it to me himself. Said that he wanted to get rid of it, actually."

Hearing that, Achilles chuckled. Soft and sad. "I'd imagine he'd want nothing to do with weaponry after..." There was a beat of hesitation before he cleared his throat. "So he's well, then?"

"Er... about as well as a man can be without his other half."

That made Achilles' eyes flutter open, and he stared hard at the prince. "Does he..." The terrified words stuck in his throat, defiant in their desire to not be spoken. Fear is for the weak. _Fear is for the weak_. Both of his hands went to Zagreus' shoulders, gripping them with all the desperation that had been lurking deep inside his soul. "He remembers me, then? Does he speak of me fondly, or with disgust? Please, lad, I... please, tell me the truth."

Luckily, the son of Hades - a cruel and stoic god - was nothing like his father. There were no lies he could ever speak, no deceptions to be wary of. Anything that was said was honest, no matter the difficulty of the subject. Achilles had always known this to be true, having watched the boy's actions and his soft spoken sentiments all his undead life. Compassion was Zagreus' main strength alongside his integrity, both of which he liked to use first to solve problems. So it was no real surprise when Achilles saw the prince's eyes soften, although when he saw his strange melancholy give way to resigned determination he had to wonder what had spurred such despondency in the first place. Whatever it was, Zagreus chose to stay silent on the matter.

But Achilles was not prepared for what came next, nothing could have prepared him for something such as this. He jerked in surprise as Zagreus reached over, gently placing the spearhead into his trembling hands. It wasn't too heavy, but Achilles felt as though he couldn't hold on hard enough. Had he still been alive, surely blood would have spilled from his hands.

"Be at ease, sir. Patroclus recalls who you are, although rather bitterly at times. He wishes to see you again, someday. He didn't believe me when I first told him you were under Father's employ, but he does ask after you when I run into him. I think... he's under the impression that I'm toying with him, even though I constantly reassure him that I'm doing no such thing." The smile on Zagreus' face was tinged with sorrow. "Would that I could reunite you both this instant. You've suffered long enough without each other."

The keepsake felt warm in Achilles' palms, as though he could feel Patroclus' touch lingering. It took all that he had not to sink to his knees and weep. This was the closest he had come to holding his love in ages; and though the comfort of the familiarly sharp metal reassured him more than anyone could ever know, Achilles understood that this treasure belonged in the hands of the prince. It took significant effort, but eventually he made himself hand the spearhead back to Zagreus, trying to ignore how his fingers ached once the contact was lost. "Thank you for telling me, lad," he said earnestly. "I'm sure he must have entrusted this to you for a far better reason than just getting rid of it. Take care of it for him... and for me, as well."

Zagreus blinked curiously at his mentor and held the spearhead out again, as if to give it back. "You don't want to keep this for yourself, Achilles, sir? Isn't Patroclus' spear something precious to you?"

Temptation gnawed at the walls Achilles had sturdily built inside his heart, and it was becoming harder and harder for him to turn down the prince's generous offer. "It is," he said at last, wearily, heavily, "but it was not given to me. It was given to you, so please."

Achilles tried to return the keepsake to its owner once more, pleading silently that Zagreus would just take it far, far away from here. He could feel his hands shaking even now, and if he held onto the memory of Pat any longer he might break down in front of everyone in the House. He couldn't let that happen. Lord Hades would not abide such a disgraceful display in his halls.

"Take it back and care for it as I would have," he repeated, rather urgently. For a moment Zagreus reached forward, as if considering complying to the request; but instead, right as his fingertips brushed against the cool metal he frowned, pushing the keepsake back into Achilles' chest.

"I'm not leaving right this second. There's no harm in you holding onto this for a while, sir."

Achilles' ethereal heart sank, knowing exactly what he'd do if given the opportunity to hold onto such a priceless thing. "Zagreus..." he pleaded, nearly begging. "This truly isn't necessary."

But the prince was already walking away from him, glancing back with a small smile as he said, "I insist, you take care of it for now. Enjoy your break, Achilles, sir."

Woefully, he realized that, indeed, it was time for the appointed break from his duties. There was nothing he could do to stop himself from clinging to the spearhead like it was his only lifeline. There was nothing he could do to stop himself from seeking out a private closet and barring himself inside it. Achilles brought Patroclus' gift to his face and breathed in, long and deep. An ingrained response, for shades didn't require air any longer, but before long the faintest scent surrounded him, filling Achilles with a sort of tender agony as he realized that what he was attempting to breathe in was the perfume of bygone years. Figs, olives and his beloved's lovedrunk breath along his ear. A time of bliss. A time of _peace_. His once, in the past, but no longer.

The quaking in Achilles' body intensified and his back hit the wall, sliding helplessly along it as his legs gave way under the weight of his regrets. There was no strength left in him, and with a stifled sob he cried out the name that haunted his thoughts during the darkest hours in Tartarus. A name that brought with it a love that he could never live without. A name that had given him life, so long ago, and a name that had cut too deeply once the life he'd known had burned to ash around him.

"Patroclus... _Patroclus_..."

* * *

The gilded door slammed shut behind Patroclus as he stormed into one of many meadows of Elysium, where he knew that Theseus loved to lounge with Asterius after a good sparring. The two of them participated often in challenges at the colosseum, mainly due to the stranger's repeated comings and goings; but whenever there was a free moment to be had it was spent at leisure, usually beside the calming rush of the river Lethe. Currently Theseus was lying prone on the grass, his hands behind his head as it rested in the lap of his minotaur companion, who had finally decided to put down his massive battle axe. Still, it was not far from reach and despite his ire Patroclus chose to address his topic as peaceably as could be allowed.

"Which of you is to blame?" he demanded, approaching them while crossing his arms to prevent his willful body from striking blows in anger. "Who taunts me? Is it you, Theseus? Do you seek to spar with me so badly that you would rise to such cowardly tactics?"

"Cowardly, me? You think not of what you speak, friend!" Theseus sat up more fully, placing his arms on his hips as he raised an eyebrow. "I would never lower myself to pursue _any_ act of cowardice! To do so is lowly, unbecoming of someone of my bearing! If it is a coward you seek, perhaps you should keep your eye tuned to your doorway, lest that dark monster from the Underworld's deepest pit returns. I have dispatched him many a time, yet he refuses to heed my warnings."

He could only mean the stranger, who was as capable a fighter as any in Elysium if he could make it this far on a regular basis. Patroclus could see it in the way he carried his weapon, in the way he carried himself as well. Confident and proud. Often he found his time whittled away with wondering how such a youth could manage to battle through half of Elysium on his own. The man must have been uncommonly skilled for someone of his apparent age. He must also have had a brilliant teacher.

"My quarrel is not with him," he replied. If Theseus knew that he had befriended this so-called 'monster', then there would be no end to the challenges. "I am alone more often than not, so I know that the stranger held no part in this. He was absent when it happened."

Seeming disappointed, Theseus fell back onto Asterius' lap. "Why then do you come at me with such baseless accusations? I was not there either."

Patroclus frowned deeply, turning his gaze to Theseus' quieter counterpart. "Can you attest to this, Asterius?"

The bull scratched his chin and snorted, looking contemplative. "The truth of the matter is that Theseus would like nothing more than to meet you in equal combat. I have heard such desires spoken on more than one occasion," he admitted. "And he is prone to taunt and to jibe, I will not deny this. However, he is not the one who has wronged you."

"Asterius, how dare!" The wounded look Theseus gave to his partner was almost comical in its intensity. "You would implicate me just like that?"

The bull shook his head. "It is not an implication. I've seen you act thus."

Scoffing, Theseus turned away from them both. "Now you insult me, as well. Fine then, to arms! We've sat here long enough! I'll show you who is prone to taunts and jibes!"

He pushed himself up onto his feet, holding out a hand to Asterius. The bull, of course, needed no such assistance and simply rose as if he were a mountain. "Very well, you may show me again what I have seen countless times already," he said, ignoring Theseus' indignant splutter as he snatched up his shield and spear from the grass, stomping through the door towards the colloseum. One long, muscled arm reached for the axe, and as Asterius hefted it over his shoulder he turned to leave.

"So it... wasn't a jest? No trick, no lie?"

Patroclus felt as if the world was crumbling beneath his feet. He sank down onto his knees, staring at his empty hands. Bare, nothing to fill them, no one to hold. This paradise was where every soul wished to go after death, and yet every day in Elysium felt as though it were just another day in a beautiful prison. What good was an eternal paradise when he was trapped in it alone, always and forever alone.

He had long since grown used to the clawing reality that his Achilles was gone. Painful as it was, he had accustomed himself to the hollowness left behind in his broken heart. He had spent much of his time upon arrival searching, hoping for Achilles around every bend, to be greeted with nothing. He had traveled every plain of Elysium in a rush of desperation, but it quickly became clear that his beloved was not present in this place. Only Achilles could mend the rift inside of Patroclus, he knew this. No one else could make him whole again. But he had nearly given up on seeing him again, had almost felt drawn to drink from the forgetful waters of the Lethe... until...

_Patroclus..._

The sound of his name had frozen him on the spot. He had not heard that voice before, so raw with emotion, edged with enough regret to taint a lifetime. Even so, it took little thought for him to realize who had spoken. Patroclus had stared into the cloudy waters of the river, his fingertips leaving trails in the current, and wept. His name had been whispered after hours, days, years... an eternity of silence. He could feel the warmth of an embrace, the dampness of tears on his neck, though he was still alone.

For a while he had assumed it to be a mean trick, as he'd said to Theseus; but now, now that he had proof that neither of them were behind it...

"Somehow, he reached out to me. So it truly was him speaking on the wind. _Achilles_..."

Patroclus sobbed, bringing a hand to his mouth as the tears poured forth from his soul. The joy he felt knowing that Achilles was here, somewhere, was dulled only by the miserable realization that there was no way for him to leave to find him. But for now, it was enough to know that he was in the Underworld. It was enough to know that he was longing to see Patroclus again, as well. It was enough. It had to be enough.

Through the haze of his tears, Patroclus saw a large knee bend to kneel before him. "If the source of this mysterious voice becomes known, I will smite it down if you so wish. No shade in Elysium deserves such a torment."

Asterius had not left after all, and he brought the pommel of his axe swiftly down, slamming it into the ground with force enough to remind a fellow hero that he was more than willing to stand by him if the situation called for it.

And though he did appreciate the offer, Patroclus simply shook his head. "No need," he whispered, a weak laugh falling from his lips. "Love is this world's greatest torment, and I would not relinquish it for anything."

**Author's Note:**

> Come and say hi on Tumblr!
> 
> You can find me at my main blog [@refraingirl](https://refraingirl.tumblr.com/) or at my writing blog [@refraingirl-the-writer](https://refraingirl-the-writer.tumblr.com/)!


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